Repetition
by hybridbpv
Summary: The fourth chapter (M version) of "Empty", there WILL be a T rated version. *Warning* REALLY heavy, steamy smut. Graphic violence, torture etc. Bond/OC. I'll try to keep him as in-character as possible, but if not, please tell me! Please review/favourite/follow! xx COMPLETED (30/12/12)
1. Confessions

I'm sorry that I haven't been available, hence neglecting my duties as a writer. Again, thank you all for the support you've given, whether follows, favourites, or reviews. Please enjoy (: xx

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"Hello." Bond said soothingly as Natasha's eyelids fluttered open. They'd spent half an hour more than he'd anticipated, napping. Her smooth legs were intertwined with his, their lower bodies covered with a clean white sheet.

"Hi." Natasha mumbled sleepily, peeking at Bond's smile before closing her eyes again.

"Tired, sleepy head?" Bond chuckled. He'd spent the past half an hour gazing at the tiny girl. Her sleep was almost as beautiful as her face, her little moans and the way she lightly flails her legs, murmuring incomprehensible words. Her skin glowed in the afternoon sun. Everything was quiet, her breathing was deep. Every now and again, he would run his hand along her arm, tracing the length of her perfect skin; remembering the way she felt.

Not so long ago, they were nose to nose, making sweet love to each other. Neither of them could deny the feeling towards each other any longer. James adored her beauty and innocence. Natasha cherished his touch and protection. Natasha leaned against the wall, and against his knees. James' hands were all over her body, slowly massaging, grasping, moving her along his length until finally, she gasped and whimpered in pleasure, convulsing over him as she found her release. James lifted her off himself, turning sideways and enveloped her tiny body with his arms, once again entering her wet, slick void. Her back was pressed against his chest, his heart thumping strongly, each beat matched the rhythm of his movements. James threaded his fingers through her hands, intertwining, bringing them onto her breasts and clutching her body even closer to himself. The feeling was too powerful for words. Both of them grunted and moaned, unintelligible sounds escaping from their mouths.

Just the thought of it got Bond going again. He felt himself twitch as he remembered the way she moaned her name. "_Oh, James, please…_" She begged, breathless. He smiled.

"Hm?" Natasha touched him on the chest ever so gently.

"Thinking." Bond put his hand over her fingers.

"Thinking of what?" She asked, curious, as she brought herself closer to his body.

"Of you, the way you said, no, the way you _moaned_ my name when I took you from behind." Bond grinned, completely proud of himself. He enjoyed her embarrassment, it was adorable to see her flush upon him mentioning her orgasm.

"It felt… good." She murmured, as if to explain.

"Only _good_? Well, then, I guess I wasn't doing too great of a job, was I? Should I stop?" Bond continued to tease her, running a hand along her thigh and curling her leg along his hip. She tried to pull away, but he moved his expert hands in such a way that her body refused to listen. "Well?" He waited for her to answer. She whimpered.

"No, please, James." She whimpered again, helplessly. "Don't stop." By now, James had placed his palm on her naked sex, rubbing slowly at a torturous speed.

"Good girl. Tell me what you want." James commanded. He liked being in control. He liked it when she begged for him, because it gave him a reason to smile, to exist. For the first time in months, he felt a fire in his heart. One that was different from what he felt whilst killing, giving pain. It was one with passion, one that gave him a reason to soften up again. But one that gave him all the more reason to be protective and controlling. He liked it when he heard her beg because for the first time in a long time, she gave him a confirmation that he was needed.

"No…" She brought her hands up to her face in shame.

"Well then." James lifted his hand off her hip and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Hey!" Natasha made a face and protested. "Not fair!" James gave her a wicked grin.

"Whoever told you it was fair?" James teased as he stroked her face lightly. "Tell. Me. What. You. Want." He uttered each word with such clarity and authority Natasha felt herself clench, gyrating her hips forwards.

"Please…" Natasha pleaded, her face burning red with shame. "Please - I want you - i-inside me." James smiled as he brought his hand near her sex again, this time thrusting two fingers in her. _She's so wet… for you. _"Hnnnggg." Her hands shot up to grab his shoulders for support. He moved them in and out of her, slowly twisting and curling. She moaned again. "Arghh." She felt his hard length against her stomach and begged again. "Please, James, please give it to me."

"Good girl." James growled, bringing the tip of his length to her opening. He didn't plunge in right away, though. He took his time, teasing her gaping void, moving up and down her slick slit, pressing himself onto her pubic mound. Natasha's breathing was shallow, she was gasping and panting from his gentle treatment. He positioned himself on her entrance. "Natasha, darling, you make me feel so…" He thrust into her. Natasha cried aloud. "You make me feel like a man." He began moving, slowly, passionately.

"Oh, James." Natasha moaned at the feeling of fullness. With each thrust, his pubic bone brushed against her bare, throbbing clit, making her gasp and moan. Her hips moved with his, meeting him thrust for thrust. A familiar tingle spread from her thighs, like wildfire, the warm sensation growing, making her hotter and wetter. James knew this feeling all too well. He knew that she was going to climax soon, and he knew that it was _he_ that was giving her such pleasure. The neediness in her voice when she begs and the desperate, aching look in her eyes. "Please, James."

James gave her a deep growl, flipping her onto all fours as he repositioned himself. "You are mine, Natasha." He grabbed onto a full, plush breast to emphasise his point. She whimpered and arched her back so that her perfectly round ass pushed up and against him. The sight was too flawless for James to wait any longer. He plunged himself into her again. Her body clenched and tightened around his length, she grabbed the sheets as he pounded and pounded.

"God, _yes_, James. Right there!" Natasha squeaked as James moved his hands around her hips, using them as leverage to penetrate her even deeper.

"You're a dirty girl, Natasha, you know that?" James roared through clenched teeth.

"Only for James. Only for you." By now, Natasha barely knew what she was talking about anymore. The pleasure had ripped through her body as she pushed her ass back into his pelvis.

"Tell me." James grasped her tightly as he began to feel himself quicken.

"I-I'm a bad girl for you, James. Oh, please!" Natasha begged desperately. James reached around her thighs and rubbed on the little knob that was her clit, sending her over the edge. Her body stiffened, moans and whimpers ripping from her throat. Her mind blanked completely, in a total state of bliss and pleasure. Her body started to really move. She milked him, thrashing and rolling her hips. Her climax was his undoing. James thrust into her one last time before turning her body and plunging into her mouth. He sprayed his hot seed on her tongue, her lips clamping over his member.

"Natasha, you are such a good girl." He groaned deeply as he felt the last of his pleasure rolling in his body. Natasha continued to suck, licking, and cleaning him from their combined juices. He placed a hand on her hair, stroking attentively. Her big brown eyes met his blue ones. The innocence contrasted hugely with her current position. Finally, he was limp. She reluctantly tore herself away from him. James' hands slid across her ribs right under her arms, lifting her effortlessly into a solid hug. Her hands were trapped against his chest as they breathed against each other. She broke the silence first.

"I've never… done that for anyone, at least I don't remember it." Natasha whispered, her eyes glistening.

"I'm a very lucky man." He beamed at her as he stroked his hand along her spine.

"Can you tell me about your… um, last girlfriend?" Natasha asked, knowing she was grasping at straws.

"Well…" James said as he shifted his position, propping himself on his elbow. "We met on a train to Montenegro for a mission. She worked for the government too - "

"Was she pretty?" Natasha asked again, curious. James nodded.

"To be honest, Natasha, I've never had a 'girlfriend' before. It was just her. I normally don't see the women after we sleep together. She was different. There was this intelligence in the way she spoke and held herself. But she was there to save her boyfriend, she saved my life by giving hers." James shook his head, remembering the cold, wet Vesper as he held her in his arms.

"I'm sorry." Natasha pursed her lips.

"You're special too. But I'm afraid, Natasha. What if you're like her, and you're not here because you need protection, but here because you want to play me? What if I fall in love with you, and you end up leaving me?" James' blue eyes were now vulnerable, his voice raspy and hurt. Natasha's heart broke into pieces as she listened, a stream of tears flowed across her face. He used his thumb to brush the wet bead away, then kissed her cheeks. She nuzzled closer against him.

"Is it wrong for you to like me?" Natasha whispered.

"Technically it is. But as I said, I've gotten into enough trouble for my boss to brush it away. She just… She's just concerned that I'll be hurt again. So the answer is no." James gave her a small smile and brought his hands along her back.

"Do you?" She asked again.

"Hm?" James murmured, unsure of what she was asking.

"Do you like me?" Natasha bit her lip. James pondered for a moment.

"If you think, for one second, that what we have between us - what we experienced just now, if that wasn't a show-and-tell of our feelings towards each other, I don't know what is." James answered honestly. He didn't want to fall in love with anyone again. But Natasha showed up and she changed everything. "Natasha," he murmured into her ear and kissed the top of her head. "I'm scared to fall in love again."

"You love me?" Natasha suddenly pushed herself away from him, gaping, wide eyed. James nodded. Her face immediately relaxed, she smiled and then a tear streamed down her face again. "I was scared too, James. I was scared that you were only an agent sent to take care of me. That you were not feeling the same way as me and that you'd leave right after you do your job. I thought I was only a… I thought I was unimportant."

"Don't ever think that." James snaked an arm around her and pulled her against him again. "Natasha, you are too special. Your kind heart, your innocence, I'm scared that I scare you. I've done some nasty things in my time as an agent. I've killed, hurt, been hurt. I'm scared that I don't have any soul left."

"The way you treat me - it should be the final proof of your soul." Natasha whispered as he smiled. The look of happiness in her eyes, she was glowing, only this time, bathing herself in James' love. "Shit. What happened to lunch?"

"Lunch could wait. We'll check on it now." James chuckled as he peeled the sheet off them. Natasha's hands covered her bare body protectively. "Hey, don't do that." James said as his face became stern.

"But it's embarrassing." Natasha blushed and whined.

"Natasha, baby, you should know that you have a beautiful, gorgeous body, like your personality. There is nothing to hide - nothing to be ashamed of. Let me see." James pointed a long finger at her, tapping lightly on her arms. Unwillingly, she slowly moved her arms away from her breasts. James used a hand to cup her, his fingers grazing against her soft, pale skin. "See? I like this." Natasha sat up, breaking contact with his hand.

"Food." She muttered and smiled at him before walking to the closet and picking out one of Bond's shirts.

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Hope you liked the steamy-ness of this scene. I certainly enjoyed writing it. I will work on the T rated version once I start my Christmas holidays (in a week), in the mean time, please continue supporting this M rated version. Happy holidays, everyone (: xx


	2. Utopia

Please review! I've never written anything like this before, so please let me know how I'm doing. Thank you for those who've continuously supported my work (: xx

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They ate their food in silence, occasionally smiling at each other. Bond thought it was complete bliss - this perfect little girl said that she loved him. This was always how he pictured himself when he married - if he ever married. With a perfect girl who loved him, in a house in the country side, she would cook for him and they would live a "normal" life, although he had no idea what it was actually like. He wanted to use up his savings - as an agent, he had no time to enjoy the good life. They would travel the world, go to exotic places, and if they run out of bling, he could always get some back by playing high stakes poker.

Natasha, however, had a different view to her ideal relationship. As far as she could remember - she wanted both of them to work. She wanted to come back from work and have a man that she loved make sweet love to her. But she also wanted to have some time to relax.

"Don't eat that bit!" Natasha suddenly pointed at James' fork. "It's charred." Bond smiled at her.

"Okay, darling." Bond flicked the black, crusty edge onto the plate.

It was a beautiful day outside, with birds chirping and leaves glistening in the sun. Natasha sat on the sofa, staring into the wide open through the window.

"You're enjoying yourself." Bond said, bringing two glasses of red wine to the little table. He handed her a glass. "To your innocence and beauty." He toasted, taking a small sip.

"To your wit and charm." She whispered, returning his compliment. They smiled at each other, sitting in silence. Occasionally, Bond would touch her, stroke her hair. She laid her head on his shoulder, enjoying the sunlight on her skin. "I miss this."

"Being with someone?" Bond asked as she swivelled herself around, sitting facing James, cross legged.

"No, I miss the sunlight on my skin. And maybe being with someone, but I don't remember that." Natasha said as she looked down, twiddling with her thumbs. "I didn't have sunlight on my skin for so long. I like it. It's warm."

Bond froze for a while, not knowing what to say. He took her hands and brought it up to his mouth, pressing his lips on each of her fingertips. "How are your wounds healing up?" Bond placed her hand on her lap and moved his fingers, inspecting her neck.

"It hurts a bit, but I'll be fine in a few days." Natasha muttered, bringing her hands onto his shoulders, one running through his rough, smooth hair. She leaned forward and pecked his forehead. "I want to shower."

"Can I come with you?" He asked, Natasha blushed. "You know that I love your body as much as your personality." Bond pointed to the wine. "Come on, drink up. The alcohol will make you brave."

Bond smiled at her as she gulped down the rest of her liquid. She was so obedient._ Is it because she's like that, or is it because she's scared of you?_ Bond suddenly cupped her chin with his fingers and brought himself closer to kiss her roughly, his tongue fighting and curling over hers. She gave a muffled yelp as he continued, his hands roaming free under his shirt. Natasha placed a hand over his wrist, but didn't do anything to push him away.

"Shower." Bond said, finally said, breaking the kiss. Natasha was flushing red on both her cheeks and her chest, breathing heavily trying to catch her breath. She tasted exquisite. Bond scooped her up in his arms and walked towards the staircase.

Natasha felt her heart race every time he touched her. He bathed in his scent, nudging closer to his neck and giving him gentle pecks as he carried her towards the master bedroom. He placed her gently back on the floor, the tips of her toes touching the floor first, stepping gracefully and balancing herself. James kneeled on the floor, slowly running his hands along her smooth legs, savouring the beautiful girl before him. He eventually moved his hands up, unbuttoning his shirt one by one. The shirt slid off her shoulders as she shrugged it off. She was naked underneath. He brought his nose to the apex of her thighs and took a deep breath._ Musk… exquisite musk._ He placed a gently kiss on her pubic mound.

"You have no pubic hair." He pointed out.

"I must have gotten rid of it when I was younger." She smiled gently, not quite able to answer his question.

"I see." He stood up as he slid off his own t-shirt. Natasha noticed long, red marks along his shoulders, his arms and his neck. She grazed a finger along the trail.

"Oh god…" Natasha whispered, horrified. The reality that she gave those marks to him sank in, amychesis lines all over his beautifully sculptured body… "Oh no, baby, I'm so sorry." She sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hey, Natasha, hush. It's okay. I enjoy it. It means I'm giving you a lot of pleasure. It makes me feel _hot._" Bond sat down next to her, draping an arm on her shoulder.

"Oh." Natasha blushed guiltily. "I'll try not to scratch you next time."

"It wasn't voluntary, darling. I like it when my girls leave their mark." He winked as he swatted her bottom lightly. "Shower."

Natasha looked at his body. He was bloody _tall_ for her, her head only came up to his shoulder. The water ran down his body, making his bronze skin polished. She ran her hands down the front of his torso. He curled his arms around her bodies and brought them closer together. Their skin slid easily across each other, water acting as a lubricant, allowing them to move freely, brushing their body together.

"You're tall!" Natasha giggled as she tip-toed to kiss James.

"No, you're just tiny." Bond stated cooly, although his inside flipped itself over at her compliment.

"Fine!" Natasha slid her hands back down his torso and stopped at his waist. She wiggled her fingers but got no reaction from him.

"Are you trying to tickle me?" Bond grabbed at her hands playfully locking them behind her. His large hand engulfed her tiny ones, easily circling and holding them in place. "Well then, I think it's time for me to get my revenge."

"No!" She squealed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Bond wriggled his fingers, Natasha doubling down, laughing and squirming against him.

"Will you be a good girl?" Bond asked, calming her down and stopping the movements in his fingers.

"I will, I will." Natasha begged, heaving to catch her breath. Bond let her go and instantly, his hands came up to her face. His mouth claimed hers, kissing relentlessly.

"I want to be in your mouth." James smoothed her wet hair, and pushed her shoulders down gently. She knelt on the stone and looked up at him. She massaged his thighs, kissing and licking his scarred skin. "Stop teasing." He cooed.

She finally took him in her mouth, his member still slightly limp, but it was evident that he had a growing erection. Sucking gently on the tip, his hands circled his girth, moving slowly, pumping forwards and backwards. James groaned at her gentle treatment. She was good with her mouth, James slid through her wet and warm passage, her tongue stroking his length, sending jolts of pleasure through to Bond.

"Oh…" Bond closed his eyes, tossed his head back and groaned. He let the overwhelming feeling take over him, the warm water spraying on his face, and the beautiful lady kneeling before him. He felt like a god. Natasha grinned slightly, proud of herself for pleasuring the man in front of her so well. He tasted fine as hell. Salty and smooth. His hardness felt just right in her mouth, she loved every vein, every pulse. She groaned. The vibrations made Bond very lusty. He grabbed her by the hair and really moved her. It was his most primitive state. He needed to control her, to use her mouth for his pleasure. Natasha tried to relax as best she could, but his rough treatment was too much for her. She choked as he hit her gag point, tears forming in her eyes. She ripped herself from him, coughing and spluttering. "So precious…" Bond said as he caressed her face, bringing her up to his level again. They kissed, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth. "I taste good in your mouth."

"Sorry I'm not too good at this." Natasha pouted her lips.

"I think you did a bloody excellent job." Bond stroked her thighs, bringing her right leg up to his waist. "I want to be inside you again."

"Why, Mister Bond, you are insatiable." Natasha breathed.

"Well yes, Miss Hall, that I am." He nodded with a wolfish grin. He positioned himself at her entrance again.

For the next few days, Bond had taught her many things. How to defend herself, how to know if someone's following her, how to play hide and seek with someone with a gun, and how to use one. She was a quick learner, although, Bond found her too timid for her own good. Whenever Bond told her to hit him, she complied, but always ended up sending a weak fist at his abdominals.

"Natasha," Bond caught her wrist during practise. "You need to be more violent."

"But I might hurt you." She said nervously. Bond chuckled.

"You can't do much harm, even if you want to." Bond said, releasing her from his steel grip. "Besides, I've been doing this longer than most people have. I know how to handle it." He heard the satellite phone ring and jogged to pick it up.

"Bond." He answered.

"How's the girl?" He heard M's voice through the phone.

"She's doing great, healing's almost done." He smiled at her.

"Good. I'm sending Mitchell with some security details and updates to you." M said.

"When's he coming?" Bond asked.

"He's on his way."


	3. Betrayal

Sorry I haven't updated in so long... Please fav/review/follow etc (: xx

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M stood up to get a cup of tea. She looked around her room. Something was very wrong. Mitchell had left three hours ago, and should now be seeing Bond. Bond. He needs the package. _Package…_ The brown package sat on the chair. M's jaw dropped. She immediately dialled the Quatermasters' line.

"It's M. I need immediate contact with Mitchell. Trace his cell, sat phone, car. Anything that belongs to him. I need him NOW." She barked into the phone, pulling on her jacket and picking up the package.

Bond heard the doorbell ring. Through the peephole, he saw Mitchell, waiting impatiently, tapping his foot and looking around the house. Natasha was napping on the couch, enjoying the sunlight after a much earned break from her training. She was still wearing her sweat pants and a tight spandex shirt that barely covered her tight sports bra. Bond unlocked the many combinations and metal blocks on the door.

"Mitchell." He nodded and opened the door.

"Bond." Mitchell nodded back. There was a clicking noise. Engine roaring. The last thing Bond remembered was a taser dropping out from Mitchell's sleeve.

A group of masked men rushed into the house. Their footsteps were loud, waking Natasha from her short slumber. She looked around, eyes still fuzzy. "James?" She felt a pair of rough, strong hands on her neck, dragging her up on her feet. Her instinct was to reach up and try to peel of the fingers, but she remembered what Bond told her. She stayed still, and elbowed the person behind her a few times, stepping on his shoes. Finally, upon kicking his groin with her heel, he doubled down and let her go. She hit his face multiple times. Blood dripped from his mask and onto the floor. There was a cloth on her mouth. _No… no!_

"Send groups to the safe house. Take the helicopter." M ordered shakily as she walked into the main block of HQ. "Keep tracking Mitchell. Send local help from the Welsh police. Track Bond's things as well. Is the microchip still working?" An agent shook his head. "God dammit, Bond." M smacked the table in frustration.

Natasha woke up. She was sitting on a chair, her hands tied to the back. She was vaguely aware of a person groaning. _James…_ Not just any person. It was James groaning. She knew his voice all too well. But it was different from the groans he made in their lovemaking. He was in pain. Her eyes shot open and she tried to scream.

"Well, well, well." A man circled around her chair. He was in a suit, his hair was grey. He didn't look that strong. "What do we have here?" He taunted, finally kneeling before her, running a hand along her sweat pants. Natasha kept silent. She was shaking, trembling and completely horrified. It was deja vu. A shiver ran through her. She remembers this. She remembers faintly being in this position… it was when -

"Natasha." Bond's voice called out before she heard another loud grunt. The man motioned for two men to come to him. Natasha flinched as she prepared herself for the pain. Nothing happened. She was lifted by one man, whilst the man in the suit murmured something the other's ear. His smile was wicked, nothing short of sinister and wolfish. She was placed at Bond's right angle. About ten steps apart. She looked at him tearfully, whimpering as she saw his bare body. Bruised, bloodied. Sweating frantically. His jaws clenched.

"Seems like you to know each other." The man in the suit sneered and nodded. One of the big, tall men delivered another heavy punch to Bond's stomach. He growled and cried out. Panting. Natasha looked to the side and shut her eyes tight, trying to block the sight out of her mind. "And it seems," Another grunt. "that," Another grunt. "she doesn't care." Bond yelled and struggled against the ropes.

"No, please." Natasha squeaked. "Please…" The man started walking towards Natasha. Her voice got smaller and smaller until he kneeled down in front of her again.

"What, darling?" The man teased.

"Please… please don't hurt him." Natasha mewled.

"Please don't hurt him, you say." The man stood up as he clapped his hands twice. "Then I guess we'll start hurting you. Which would you like to start with? You remember, don't you?" He slapped Natasha on the face. "Tell me the password, and I'll let you go." Natasha remained silent.

"Don't touch the girl." Bond shouted. Mitchell delivered a punch to his face.

"Shut up, Bond." Mitchell sneered. "I've hated you ever since you were promoted to a double oh. Just because your charming smile, pretty face. I'm going to break you."

"You hear that, Natasha?" The man in the suit grabbed her roughly by the hair. Natasha screamed in pain. "Let's make things more interesting." He proceeded tapping his belt and pointing at Bond. The group of men instantly raised their guns and pointed them towards Bond. The man walked towards Bond, holding a knife. Natasha screamed. "Now, now, Natasha. I'm only releasing him."

He used his pocket knife to free Bond from the rope. Bond was still as a statue. He was trying to figure out a route of escape, but the doors were heavily bolted and locked, no windows.

"Agent Bond. Double Oh Seven." The man in the suit patted him on the shoulder. "You are the loyal one, serving Queen and country." He moved in closer, next to Bond's ear. "Are you loyal to the _girl_?" Bond remained silent. _No way of escaping with them alive. Kill targets. Rescue Natasha._

"He'll do anything for the bitch." Mitchell scorned.

"In that case… Listen very carefully, Bond. You are aware that there are six guns, all pointing at you. You are to beat the girl, torture her, get information out of her. Do you understand?" Bond looked at Natasha, trembling with anger and fury. "I said do you understand?" The man bellowed.

"Fine." Bond kept his face straight. _No, stop, Bond, what are you doing?_ He needed a plan of escape, at least to hold on until he finds a weak spot. M should've noticed that Mitchell was gone for too long. He needed to ensure both of them made it out alive. He stood in front of Natasha, her eyes gruesomely horrified. That beautiful face. He slapped her.

Natasha kept silent. It was all too wrong, all too familiar. The pain came back to her. But she knew that Bond needed time to find a way to save themselves. Another blow to the face. Her face was stinging, cheeks red and flowing with tears. The man sat down on a chair, lighting a cigarette and enjoying his little game.

"I'm sorry." Bond mouthed silently as he delivered another blow. He was evidently tensing up, upset, fuming.

"What? You getting soft, Bond? Losing your edge? Is that why the bitch never used you in interrogations anymore?" Mitchell laughed. "Hit her properly, or I'll shoot both of you." He roared.

"Stand up, Natasha." Bond's voice said cooly. She stood up weakly with the help of his strong grip on her arm. The two lingered for a while, before Natasha felt a sharp pain on her hip. The pain got duller, but it spread. She gasped. _It hurts, it hurts._ "The password. Please, Natasha. I can stop the pain. Tell me the password." He said. Bond's fist shook more and more. He could not believe that he was hurting the girl he loved _again._

"I don't know the password!" Natasha cried. Bond hit her again, this time on the left side of her stomach. Natasha fell to the ground and curled up, sobbing as she struggled to get away from him. Bond pulled her up, slowly caressing where his blows fell. "Please, just tell me." Bond whispered as he ran his hands across her heated skin.

M looked around the safehouse. There were medical teams, people examining blood on the floor, checking cameras. She tried to picture what had happened. They found traces of chloroform on the floor near the sofa. "Ma'am." She heard.

"Yes. What?" An agent handed her a phone.

"The blood on the floor belongs to a man named Arnold Herd. Known associates - Gordon White, Charles Lesley and numerous others. Started off kidnap, rape, escalated to first degree murder, arson, and he has contacts with some heavy weight people. People close to the top of our list. We had eyes on him about four hours ago on highway heading to the pier. We have people there already. Waiting for your command."

"Use everything we can to find and rescue. There's a girl as well." M said.

Natasha felt Bond's leg coming in contact with her chest. She could swear she heard something crack. Another shadow moving quickly towards her, this time lower. A burning, agonising pain, this time, the crack echoed the room. Bond had a tear on his face, he knew he was crying. But it was easily mistaken for his sweat. He clenched his teeth and kept hitting her. _It's the only way to keep both you and her alive, Bond._ He had aimed for the safer areas. Places where it was near impossible to kill her.

"Please, James." Natasha's pained voice squeaked breathlessly. "Please, stop. It hurts." He wanted to dig a whole and hid there. He remembered the time, M's offer to join the organisation. His only instinct was to say yes, it was the place that gave him sanctuary. But this - this was all too much. She was bleeding, her tiny body broken and bloodied. Her voice grew louder and louder until she was screaming. "James, stop, please don't hurt me."

"Do you have the password?" The man with the suit walked over to her. She looked at him, frightened. "Do you?" He boomed. She shook her head. His shoe came into contact with her forehead. _Black…_ "That should shut you up."


	4. Blood

Sorry I haven't updated in so long! I hope you enjoy this chapter, please review and favourite (: Be sure to also check out my Christmas special (Named A 00Q Christmas) Cheers and enjoy! xx

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Bond closed his eyes and looked away. "I'm so sorry, Natasha." He sobbed as he finally gave into the pain in his chest. That damned, dull, aching pain that he couldn't get away. It grew every time he came in contact with her skin. He gaped painfully at her, she was still and motionless. Her hair fell the way it did with Vesper. Her tiny body was hurt and broken. And he was the one who did it. He could only silently apologise to her.

"Well. I'm assuming she didn't tell you, so I don't think you have any use. However… you have some useful information too. You know some of MI6's secrets. You will tell me." The man said, patting James on the back again.

"Ma'am, we are ready to begin." An agent said through the headpiece.

"Have you ensured it is safe." M said, keeping her eyes on the highway.

"Affirmative. We have used a thermo-detecting camera, there are eight people in the shed, one on the floor." He reported.

"Any movement?" M asked.

"One is beating another." The agent finally said.

"Whenever you are ready." M sighed.

"What makes you think I will tell you?" Bond smirked before spitting on the ground.

"This." The man flicked a knife open in front of Bond's face. "If you don't tell me… I'm going to carve into your beautiful body."

"We wouldn't want that." Bond replied.

"You know… this isn't the best time to use your wit, Bond." The man rested the blade on his shoulder.

"Then I shall save myself from having to think of a comeback." The man punched Bond hard, in the gut.

"I don't think you understand, Bond. I'm going to hurt you, and you still want to play this your way? This is the problem, agent, that you think you're so smart, that you can outsmart all the people here - that you can figure out a way to save the day. Always." The man yelled as Bond doubled down, groaning. "You're in a fucking shed, for God's sake. Cut the crap and tell me what you know. Maybe Mitchell would even make it easy and quick for you."

"You keep telling me you're going to hurt me, but what have you done so far?" Bond continued to provoke the man.

And in a flash, there was a burning sensation near the left side of his stomach, a bit below his ribs. Liquid gushed out of the wound. The man showed Bond the bloody knife, glistening with his own fluids. Bond gaped, his eyes wide open, not quite taking in the situation. He was bleeding, a lot. He started to feel light headed. He started to feel very weak.

He heard something burst open, like an explosion, but there was no time to react. Gunshots. A lot of yelling and screaming. More gunshots. And then a sharp scorching feeling on his shoulder. More blood. He hit the floor. He laid next to Natasha, staring at her, his body battered and bloodied, but his mind numb. And black…


	5. Flat

This is the last chapter of this part of the story! Please review/fave and enjoy! xx

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James woke with a groan._ Beep… Beep… _He was only aware of the small sounds around him. The beeping, metal clanging. There was a sheet covering him. It hurt everywhere. _Natasha…_ He, very slowly, opened his eyes. Everything was a bloody fuzz. He was sure he was in a hospital. The familiar smell of antiseptics and clean bedsheets. The telltale beeping of the monitors. He tried to focus on his body. Stomach definitely burns to the left, back of right shoulder too. Stitches. He runs his hand along his stomach. _Natasha… Natasha…_

"I see you've woken." M cleared her throat. Bond looked to the left. M was sitting beside his bed, on the window side of the room. "The operation went well; you were shot in the midst of the rescue, sorry about that. They successfully took out the bullet, you'll be in rehab for a while."

"Natasha…" Bond gasped as he tried to slide himself up on the bed.

"There are buttons for that, James…" M pressed a button on the side of his bed, causing the bed to tilt. Bond cried out at the tilted wound. "Miss Hall is… doing fine."

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" Bond glared at M.

"She's in a coma, induced. There was trauma to her head on the side, swelling, so doctors took a safety precaution. Also broken ribs and internal bleeding of the diaphragm. But the doctors say she's doing fine for someone who has been through so much. If everything turns out alright, they'll wake her when the swelling dies out." M recites, still looking at Bond. She clutches his hand lightly. "James… are you alright?"

"Yes, M, thank you for asking. I need to see her." Bond nodded, appreciating her concern. She was always concerned about him. She has always cared.

"Doctors will need to check up on you before you do that. I'm glad you're back. Although, I did enjoy the time that you were in Cardiff. A week of no mischief or killings or broken machinery and gadgets. It was, in a way, very peaceful. A week without Bond. But that time was too long. I started to miss you. Especially when I found out you were gone. You do have an effect on everyone, Bond. I think you know that. Don't do anything reckless. We care. I care." M shook her head as the doctors entered the room. "I'll leave you to the doctors for now. I'll be expecting a report by tomorrow. There's a laptop on your bedside table."

"Ma'am. What about Mitchell?" Bond asked as the doctors did their things, probing and checking his eyes.

"He's dead. Shot in the head, point-blank. White shot him." M stated.

"White?" Bond asked again.

"The man in the suit." M nodded, before walking out of the room.

"How do you feel?" The doctor asked. Bond turned his attention to the man in the white coat. There was a stethoscope around his neck, engraved with _Coleman. N._"

"I'm fine, doctor Coleman. When can I go visit my friend?" _Just leave me alone. _Bond thought.

"It seems that you're doing very well. But expected full physical recovery is three months. Take it easy." Coleman smiled at him, finishing the checkup. _Three months for me means two weeks._

"When can I see my friend?" Bond growled again.

"You can go see her now. Shall I take you?" The doctor asked. Bond nodded. The doctor walked out of the room, pushing a wheelchair when he re-entered. "Slowly… easy! Easy!" He said as Bond just stepped out of bed, ignoring the pain and sitting into the wheelchair.

"Let's go." Bond commanded. They passed a few corridors, going into an elevator. Coleman punched the button to the 19th floor. _ Intensive Care Unit._ Bond clenched his fist.

Natasha was still. Too still. There was barely any movement in her chest. No heaving. Just small movements. Bond did not look away from her. The moment he set his eyes on Natasha, everything just stopped. He wasn't aware of the doctor saying, "press the red button when you need me", or when he walked out of the room. All he cared about was Natasha. The feeling of his fist coming in contact with her soft skin. All too much… all too much. Bond sat there for five hours, sobbing speechlessly. He sat there until the nurses pulled him out and back into his own room.

He didn't sleep, how could he? There was a button for Vicodin that would kill the pain. But Bond didn't press it. Not once. He needed the burn in his stomach and shoulder. He needed to feel the pain. He was in agony, sweating, mouth dry, heart beating faster and faster. But he didn't care. This was the pain he put on himself. He needed revenge. To cause physical pain as a punishment. To punish himself for hurting her. Natasha. He hurt her. He hurt her badly. He wished it was him in the bed, motionless. He wished it was him that was hurt and in a coma. But it had to be her. It had to be someone she loved, so that people could get what they want from both of them. This was the game he played. The game where the person who caused the most pain would win. He knew that. But this time it was different. This time, the game involved Natasha. The innocent girl, who was harmed before, by the same people. This game was where _he_ needed to hurt her. Tears streamed down his face. He couldn't lost her. He just couldn't lose anyone else. He quickly typed up the report accounting for what happened, both in the safe-house, which was not safe, and the room, which even he was unclear of the location. He hit the send button. For the next few hours, he writhed in his damp sheets, the pillow used to muffle his growls. Until the doctors came in the room because his heart was beating too fast. They gave him some kind of injection. Exactly what, he did not know. He faded out.

In his dream, he was eleven. He was reading a book. _The Great Gatsby, by Scott Fitzgerald._ He was sitting by the fireplace in his house in Scotland. His parents were out on holiday in France, and the gamekeeper Kincade was appointed to take care of him. It was a tuesday. A week before they said they'd come back. A man knocked on the door, eyed the young Bond, and shook his head. Bond read his lips. The book fell from his hand. He hid somewhere, unwilling to come out. They were all he ever had. And he lost them. Eleven. Orphaned.

The next day, he woke up. Immediately he made his way to Natasha's room. He wheeled himself to the elevator and up, along the corridors, enduring the pain that came with the movement. Natasha was still. Still very still. The doctors came in. Showed Bond some illegible papers. Said something about taking her out of the coma this week. Bond spent the next few days all the same. Apologising to her, crying, apologising again.

"You're good to go, Mister Bond." Coleman patted Bond on the good shoulder. "We're taking Miss Hall out of her coma in a moment. Until then, I think it's best not to disrupt her, just in case."

"That will be fine. Thank you, doctor." Bond said, his arm in a dumb sling, and his torso wrapped in a coiled bandage. He made his way to the nineteenth floor and sat down on a chair. _Please let Natasha be alright. Please._ His phone rang.

"Good morning, double oh seven. Are you out of the hospital? M wants a word." A voice uttered.

"No. I'm staying for a few more hours. Tell M I'm fine and that I'll drop by HQ on the way home." Bond sighed before clicking the small red square, not waiting for his reply.

Doctors walked into Natasha's room with some kind of equipment. Bond stood up and walked towards the window. They pushed a button. He watched the monitor. Her heart was slowing…_ God, no…_ And slowing…_ Please… Natasha._ And the line was flat.

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There's one more bit in this story, look out for it on my profile page. It's called "Redemption". Thank you for your continuos support, I hope you enjoyed the story so far (: xx


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